Little women

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO TENDER TROUBLES

"Jo, I'm anxious about Beth." 

"Why, Mother, she has seemed unusually well since the babies came." 

"It's not her health that troubles me now, it's her spirits. I'm sure there issomething on her mind, and I want you to discover what it is." 

"What makes you think so, Mother?" 

"She sits alone a good deal, and doesn't talk to her father as much as sheused. I found her crying over the babies the other day. When she sings, thesongs are always sad ones, and now and then I see a look in her face that Idon't understand. This isn't like Beth, and it worries me." 

"Have you asked her about it?" 

"I have tried once or twice, but she either evaded my questions orlooked so distressed that I stopped. I never force my children's confidence,and I seldom have to wait for long." 

Mrs. March glanced at Jo as she spoke, but the face opposite seemedquite unconscious of any secret disquietude but Beth's, and after sewingthoughtfully for a minute, Jo said, "I think she is growing up, and sobegins to dream dreams, and have hopes and fears and fidgets, withoutknowing why or being able to explain them. Why, Mother, Beth's eighteen,but we don't realize it, and treat her like a child, forgetting she's a woman." 

"So she is. Dear heart, how fast you do grow up," returned her motherwith a sigh and a smile. 

"Can't be helped, Marmee, so you must resign yourself to all sorts ofworries, and let your birds hop out of the nest, one by one. I promise neverto hop very far, if that is any comfort to you." 

"It's a great comfort, Jo. I always feel strong when you are at home,now Meg is gone. Beth is too feeble and Amy too young to depend upon,but when the tug comes, you are always ready." 

"Why, you know I don't mind hard jobs much, and there must always beone scrub in a family. Amy is splendid in fine works and I'm not, but I feelin my element when all the carpets are to be taken up, or half the familyfall sick at once. Amy is distinguishing herself abroad, but if anything isamiss at home, I'm your man." 

"I leave Beth to your hands, then, for she will open her tender littleheart to her Jo sooner than to anyone else. Be very kind, and don't let herthink anyone watches or talks about her. If she only would get quite strongand cheerful again, I shouldn't have a wish in the world." 

"Happy woman! I've got heaps." 

"My dear, what are they?" 

"I'll settle Bethy's troubles, and then I'll tell you mine. They are notvery wearing, so they'll keep." and Jo stitched away, with a wise nod whichset her mother's heart at rest about her for the present at least. 

While apparently absorbed in her own affairs, Jo watched Beth, andafter many conflicting conjectures, finally settled upon one which seemedto explain the change in her. A slight incident gave Jo the clue to themystery, she thought, and lively fancy, loving heart did the rest. She wasaffecting to write busily one Saturday afternoon, when she and Beth werealone together. Yet as she scribbled, she kept her eye on her sister, whoseemed unusually quiet. Sitting at the window, Beth's work often droppedinto her lap, and she leaned her head upon her hand, in a dejected attitude,while her eyes rested on the dull, autumnal landscape. Suddenly some onepassed below, whistling like an operatic blackbird, and a voice called out,"All serene! Coming in tonight." 

Beth started, leaned forward, smiled and nodded, watched the passer-bytill his quick tramp died away, then said softly as if to herself, "How strongand well and happy that dear boy looks." 

"Hum!" said Jo, still intent upon her sister's face, for the bright colorfaded as quickly as it came, the smile vanished, and presently a tear layshining on the window ledge. Beth whisked it off, and in her half-avertedface read a tender sorrow that made her own eyes fill. Fearing to betrayherself, she slipped away, murmuring something about needing morepaper.